/ give t^eft Btaks
for the fou^diag if. a. Celkge in thiiCaloay';'

'YALE«¥]MII¥lEI^SflirY- " ILIlIBI^^IElf »

\n.c.nsosan.iia.  ' 

HISTOKieAL MEMOIR

NGPIELD CEMETERY,

READ TO THE PROPRIETORa AT THEIR MEETING, MAY 23, lSu7

GEORGE BLISS,
IHEIB PBESIDENT.

< mmm. >

AccompaBied liy an Address delivered at the Gonsecratioa of the , Cemetery,
SEPTEMBER 5. 1841,

REI^. wm. B. 0. PEABODY.

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
SAMUEt BOWLES AND COMPANX. PRINTERS,
1857.

FORBES LIBRARY
NORTHAMPTON MASS.

HISTOEICAL MEMOIR

SPRINGFIELD CEMETERY,

READ TO THE PROPRIETORS AT THEIR MBETINa, MAY 28, 1867.

GEORGE BLISS,

THEIB FSESISENT.

* m.m. »

Accompanied by an Address delivered at tbe Consecration of the Cemetery,
SEPTEMBER 5, 1841,
Eij;y..,.,w.M,. .B,. 0. 'pea*b6dy.

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
SAMUEL BOWLES AND COMPANY, PRINTERS.
1857.

SPRINGFIELD CEMETERY.

To THE PSOPEIETOES OF THE SpEINGFIBLD CeMBTBBY : —
The Cemetery established and sustained with varying fortunes
through a period of sixteen years, has become an institution of
such absorbing interest and attachment to all our local population,
that it is deemed proper to embrace the present occasion of your
annual meeting to submit a brief memoir of its origin, progress
and present condition. This is peculiarly appropriate now, as all
the proposed purchases of territory have been made, the whole
has been paid for, the association is out of debt, with a moderate
surplus of funds, and the premises are all comparatively in good
order. OBIGIN AND OKOANIZ ATION.
On the 4th of October, 1840, an informal meeting of a few
gentlemen was held for consultation on the subject of a " Rural
Cemetery}'' This resulted in the appointment of committees to
select and report upon a suitable location, and to prepare a form
of association. At a meeting on the 28th of March, 1841, upon
the report of these committees, it was voted to purchase of Mr.
Alexander Bliss the part of the present premises known as "Mar
tha's Dingle," being about twenty acres. Suitable access to the
same was provided for, and measures taken for a legal organiza
tion. On May 6th, 1841, on the application of fourteen gentle
men, a warrant was issued by a magistrate for a legal meeting on
the 9th.

4
At that meeting the present system of organization was per
fected — a board of seven trustees provided for and chosen — and
the Eev. Wm. B. 0. Peabody elected President, an office which
he continued to hold until his death in 1847.
To insure success to the enterprise, a subscription was taken up
for shares in the company, of $10 each, which, on the 1st of
June, 1841, amounted to $3,070, the subscribers to be at liberty
to take an interest in lots to be laid out, to the extent of their
subscriptions. The work of laying out, grading, planting, orna
menting and fencing the grounds, was commenced, and has been
constantly pursued to the present time. The grounds have been
enlarged by several additions since the first purchase, and they
now contain about thirty-five acres of land at a total cost of about
$8,270 51 ; and they are believed to be ample for many genera
tions to come. They include a house and lot in Mulberry street,
adjoining the Cemetery, purchased for $1,700, in 1848, for the
use of the Superintendent — a part of which has been rented. A
barn was erected near the house in 1849 for the purposes of the
company, at a cost of about $600. A receiving tomb was con
structed in 1841, and being found too small, an addition of equal
size has been recently made to it.
On the 5th day of September, 1841, the Cemetery was duly
consecrated by religious services, and an appropriate address was
delivered by the President, the Rev. Mr. Peabody.
On the 12th day of March, 1845, the trustees voted that it was
expedient to build a gate-way according to a plan submitted by
Mr. Peabody, and directed an estimate to be prepared. On the
26th of March, 1845, such an estimate was presented, and it was
voted that the building of the gate-way be commenced under the
superintendence of Messrs. Peabody, Eaton, G. Dwight, Brewer
and Elwell. The work was prosecuted through that year, at
great expense — the exact amount of which cannot well be ascer
tained ; and in June, 1846, a vote was passed that Mr. G. Dwight
go on with the gate-way at an expense not exceeding $300. The
structure was still unfinished ; and the funds of the company
being needed for other and more pressing purposes, the work was

suspended, and it has thus remained to the present time. A con
tract has now been made to complete it by the 15th of June next,
according to the original drawing by Sikes, for $160. From a
cursory examination, it appears that the whole cost cannot be less
than $2000 to $2,250. The trustees propose to cover it with suit
able ornamental vines when finished.
In 1848, an arrangement was made by the trustees with the
First Parish in Springfield, who held the title of the principal
part of the old burying grounds on the river, at the foot and each
side of Elm street, to convey the same to the proprietors of the
Cemetery, on condition of the careful disinterment of the remains
of all persons buried there, and the removal of such as should
not be claimed and removed by their friends, to a portion of the
Cemetery, specially and exclusively set apart for them adjoining
Pine street, and their re-interment — the old monuments to be
erected to their appropriate remains. This service was performed
during that year, in a manner satisfactory to all parties, and with
the following results : —
The number of bodies then removed from the old North Burying
ground, ---------- 1,624
From the South Burying ground, -...-- 810
Total,  2,434
Thirty of these were removed to other burying grounds ; the
residue were deposited in our Cemetery. Five hundred and
seventeen old monuments and tablets were also removed. All
remains having no monuments, and not recognized, were deposited
together, and a common monument erected, designating the fact;
the whole enclosure was surrounded by a hedge, and a monument,
commemorative of these removals and re-interments, was erected
near the eastern entrance on Pine street.
The whole expense attending this removal, was - - $1,625 33
To which add amounts paid for sundry private burial lots
adjoining, not belonging to 1st Parish, - - - 420 62
Total cost of the old grounds,  $2,045 95

6
The lands of the old burying grounds were laid out into lots,
and have now all been sold, and paid for from time to time : —
Producing in the whole, ------- $7,144 79
Deduct cost and expenses above,  2,045 95
Net proceeds,  $5,098 84
The whole number of lots in the Cemetery, sold in 16 years —
up to May 1st, 1857, is 730. The whole number of burials is as
follows : —
By sextons of different societies prior to the appointment of the
Superintendent in 1842, say ----- 12 00
Removals by the Hartford raUroad company, on locating their
road — and removals by friends prior to 1848, say - - 227 00
Removals by the Cemetery company in 1848, from the old
grounds to their own premises, as before stated, - - 2,404 00
Original burials by the Superintendent, from November 1842,
to May 1, 1857,  1,570 00
Total,  4,213 00
Of this last number about 170 original burials were upon the
common ground owned by the Cemetery company, being princi
pally paupers and strangers.
FINANCIAL DEPAETMENT.
Since June, 1841, there have been received by the treasurer to
May Ist, 1857:—
From subscriptions and sales of lots as per annual statements
annexed, "A"  $19,552 65
From Fairs and a Concert,  2,440 47
From labor by the Superintendent for sundry owners of lots
— attending funerals, use of tomb and burials, - - 6,369 71
From rents, - - - '  1,152 38
From sales of lands of the old burying ground, $7,144 79
Less paid expenses of removals and cost of
private lots,  2,045 96 ~ 5,098 84
Sundry miscellaneous sources, . . - . - 100 50
Total,  $34,714 55

The payments have been as follows : —
For purchases of lands for the Cemetery from time to time
aa per the annexed schedule marked " B" - - $8,270 51
For labor and sundry expenses of laying out, grading, pre
paring and ornamenting the grounds, building fences,
drains, paths, a tomb, gateway, salaries of treasurer and
other incidental expenses for sixteen years, and includ
ing interest,  25,037 54
Leaving a balance in the treasury May 4th, as per treasurer's
report of that date, gf ----- - 1,406 50
Total,  $34,714 55
This is exclusive of receipts and payments on account of
moneys borrowed. There are no debts outstanding, and no
claims against the company unpaid.
I take great pleasure in congratulating the proprietors upon the
eminent success which has thus far attended this enterprise — the
entire prosperity of every department of their business, and the
flattering prospects for the future. It is the purpose of the Presi
dent and trustees to grade and prepare for sale, lots in difi'erent
parts of the Cemetery as there shall be a demand for them, and
gradually further to improve and ornament the grounds by the
erection of more permanent fences, and the construction of du
rable sewers for temporary, insufficient ones, laid down in former
years. Among the purchases of lands, the proprietors will notice one
of six and a half acres, called the Peach Orchard, being wholly
plain land on the south side of the Cemetery. As this was the
only direction in which it was supposed the grounds could be en
larged at any future time, the trustees improved the opportunity
to secure this tract for future use, in case it should be needed. It
is not designed to have any part of this lot used for burials for
many years ; but the trustees intend to plant it with trees and
shrubbery, from time to time, and to lay it out into drives and
walks. I cannot close this communication without stating that the
friends of the late Eev. William B. O. Peabody — eminently the

8
founder and the constant and steadfast friend of this institution —
propose to erect by subscription, in some prominent place in the
Cemetery, a monument to his memory, which will be alike
honorable to him, and a just appreciation on their part, of his
character and services. And I beg leave to suggest, that the pro
prietors should, in token of their concurrence in so laudable an
object, contribute something towards the erection of such a
monument. And in this connection it would be inexcusable not to acknowl
edge in grateful terms, the services of Geoege Eaton, Esq., of
Boston, then a resident of Springfield, who devoted himself with
untiring assiduity to the laying out, planting and ornamenting of
the grounds. To the eminent taste and judgment of Mr. Eaton
and Mr. Peabody are we mainly indebted for the great beauty of
the drives and winding walks and fountains which elicit the ad
miration of all strangers, and constitute this Cemetery the pride
of our citizens.
Nor should we omit to place on record for future reference, the
name of Apollos Maesh, who has been the devoted Superinten
dent of the work and grounds from the commencement of the
undertaking to the present time, to the entire acceptance of the
proprietors and their officers.
EespectfuUy submitted,
GEOEGE BLISS, Pbesidbnt.
May 23, 1857.

SCHEDULE A.
Schedule of Annual Beceipts &om Subscriptions for Burial Lots and Sales of Lots.
For year ending May 1, 1842, principally subscriptions,
" " " 1843, sales,
« « " 1844, "
" « « 1845, «
« " " 1846, «
« « 1847, "
« " « 1848, "
" " " 1849, «

1850, 1851,
1852, 1853, 1854,1855, 1856, 1857,

Total,

$3,457 60
880 72
1,195 59
846 62
1,047 37
1,043 91
780 40
1,566 63
1,215 02
1,004 03
1,009 00
1,193 85
1,138 70
1,087 70
996 50
1,089 00
$19,552 64

. .S-G-Hi&DVl;*E-B.*::\:
Statemei{):'4f-FiiicliaRes'o{ lands of the Springfield Cemetery.

DATE OP
PURCHASE.

NAME OP QRANTOB. •*.; ¦ .

^QlfAHThn^OP*

feltfOE PAH).

DESORIPTIOrf, &0.

ACRES.

BOSS.

1841, May 12.
Alexander BUsB,
]£
108
f 1,548 55
Martha's Dingle.
" Sept.
H. Adams, A. Bliss, Hills,
Parker and Springfield
bank. [Entrance ar.]
{No. quantity ^ven.)
80
259 00
Entrance Avenue.
" Sep. 21.
C. Burnham,
5
107
708 59
" Oct.
0. Burnham,
14
59 37
1844, Deo. 11.
T. J. Shepard,
39
163 00
1845, July.
0. Burnham,
80
225 00
H. Sterns, (say)
80
On South line of Dwight lot.
1846-8.
Bowdoin, Mills, Simons,
Moore, Cooley,
50
185 00
Straightening North line.
1847, June 1.
Thomas J. Shepard,
1
113
1,357 00
Laundry Lot.
1850 Mar 6
^^^^^ta^^ Hnnrmll
7
60 00
Straightening West line.
Peach Orchard.
1849, Nov. 6.
AuiiiriUj
H. W. Adams,
6
80
2,000 00
1849.
John Kilbom,
5 00
Straightening North Ea^t line.
Thomas Rogers,
42
1,700 00
Mulberry st. house and lot.
Total,
36
$8,270 61
CONDITIONS CONTAINED IN ALL DEEDS OF LOTS IN
THE CEMETERY.
First, That the said lot of land shall not be used for any other purpose
than as a place of burial for the dead ; and no trees within the lot, or border,
shall be cut down, trimmed, or destroyed, without the consent of the Trustees
of the said Corporation.
Second, That the proprietor of the said lot shall have the right to erect
stones, monuments or sepulchral structures, and to cultivate trees, shrubs and
plants in the same.
Third, The proprietor of the said lot of land shall erect thereon, at his or
her own expense, a monument of stone, to be provided by said Trustees, with
the number thereof legibly and permanently marked thereon And if the
said proprietor shall omit, for thirty days after notice, to erect such monu
ment, and mark the number, the Trustees shall have authority to cause the
same to be done at the expense of the said proprietor.
Fourth, That if any trees or shrubs situated in said lot of land, shall, by
means of their roots, branches, or otherwise, become detrimental to the ad
jacent lots or avenues, or dangerous or inconvenient to passengers, it shall be
the duty of the said Trustees for the time being, and they shall have the
right to enter into the said lot and remove the said trees and shrubs, or such
parts thereof as ape/\lpis dfifriijaenjal, dangerous, or inconvenient.
Fifth, That if anji'ioqnuineiTt/or effigy, or,4ny;stfflotijre-p>hatever, or any
inscription be placed jn_ or upon the' sai'dianii*whl51ji;^alllje determined by
the major part of th&gkid TrpgJfefeSjfaj' the time.ljeing,_ to be oifensive or im
proper, the said Truslees,'\Jr flie Jaa.Jfif^aVt.'of tfienaj shafl.Kave the right, and
it shall be their duty, to enter upon said land, an"d ^eidottf the said offensive
or improper object or objects. ..• [.'• /; J; <
Sixth, No fence shall from "tim'e" tt-'timtef' pr at any time, be placed or
erected in or around the said lot, the materials and design of which shall
not. first have been approved by the Trustees, or a committee of them.
Seventh, No tomb shall be constructed within the bounds of the Ceme
tery, except in or upon the lots situated in such parts of the grounds, as shall
be designated by the Trustees for that purpose ; and no proprietor shall suffer
the remains of any person to be deposited in a tomb so authorized, for hire.
Eighth, The Trustees may at any time enter upon said lot to keep the
same neat, and clear off the grass and weeds therefrom and appropriate the
said grass and weeds to their own use.
Ninth, The said lot of land shall be holden subject to the provisions con
tained in the By-Laws of the proprietors of said Cemetery, heretofore estab
lished, or which may be hereafter established by them.

APPENDIX.

Address of Rev. W. B. 0. PEABODY at the Consecra
tion OE THE Cemetery, September 5th, 1841.

We have long been endeavoring to secure a fit resting
place for our dead. And now, having succeeded in this
enterprise — having found a place, in every respect, grate
ful to our feelings — we are come, — with solemn service,
on the day of rest — to implore on our place of rest the
blessing of our God.
When I saw this great audience jnst now, winding up
through the glades of the Cemetery to take their places
on this ground, I was deeply affected with the thought,
how soon we shall take our places in the dust below.
With this deep thought upon our minds — with these hills
and vallies around us — in presence of these venerable
trees and these sparkling waters' — with the green earth
beneath, and God's own bright sky above us — I need not
ask your attention — I need not labor to bring you to
solemnity ; for I doubt not that a voice is now saying in
every heart, "the place whereon thou standest is holy
ground." The feeling which leads us to respect the dead — the same
feeling which brings us here to-day, is found in every age
and country ; aye, in every man, who deserves the name

12
of man The rough soldier, at the grave of his comrade,
feels this strong emotion, and becomes a better man for
the time; the seaman, as he leans over the side of his
vessel, to watch the plunge of his shipmate's corpse in the
waters, becomes more thoughtful than ever he was before.
And ye yourselves do know, that, in every funeral, where
the dead lies out before the living, with an air of mysteri
ous reserve upon his brow — with an unsearchable depth
of expression which no living eye can read — he is in
vested, for the time, with the stern majesty of death, and
every heart does willing homage to his power.
Nor does this reverence cease when the dead are hidden
from our eyes. It follows them to the grave, and makes
us regard as sacred the place where we have laid them.
The burial place is the favorite retreat of the thoughtful;
it calms all troubled feelings — it is the place where many
holy lives begin — where the unfortunate are most recon
ciled to this world, and the gay most concerned for the
other. When our friends depart, we hang over these
places with profound interest, because here it is that we
lose them. Up to this place we can follow them, through
all changes of joy and sorrow, of life and death. But
" hitherto shalt thou come, and no farther " is written on
the portal of the tomb. Here is the boundary, beyond
which they cannot return — beyond which we cannot go.
No wonder then that it chains attention; it is like the
spot in the ocean, where we have seen some gallant ship
go down.
And now I say, it is nature — that is — the God of
nature, who inspires this feeling in the human breast. I
have heard some men say, that they care not what be
comes of their remains when they are gone. It may be

13
so — they may say so of themselves if they will. But if
they say that they care not what becomes of the remains
of their friends when they are gone, their hearts are not
in the right place ; I should doubt if they had friends — I
should know that they did not deserve them. Indiffer
ence to these things is not natural to any good mind or
heart. Nature says, "Bury me with my fathers." The
feeling which nature dictates is, " that I may die in mine
own city, and be buried by the grave of my father and
my mother."
It is true the soul is more than the body ; the condition
of the soul which has gone into eternity is infinitely more
important than that of the tenement of clay which it
leaves behind. But whoever truly cares for the one wiU
also care for the other. Whoever follows with his heart
the friend who has gone into eternity, will surely have
some regard to the place where that friend's remains are
laid. Why is the body cared for? Is it not because it
has been for a time the dwelling of the soul ? This reason
will be sufficient to keep any one who values the soul
from treating it with the least disdain. Have you not
known, how, when a friend departs, every thing that has
been connected with him becomes consecrated in your
eyes ? The letters he wrote, the dress he wore, the books
he read — every thing is a sacred memorial to the sur
viving. Surely then, the mortal frame which the soul has
once illuminated with light and love — the mortal frame,
where the soul has beamed from the eye, breathed from
the lips, and shone like a glory on the brow, — surely the
remains deserve to be treasured ; and I neither envy nor
respect the man who can treat them with light regard.
Do you say that this feeling grows out of refinement ?

14
that it springs from cultivation, not from nature ? To this
I have a reply. The land on which we dwell was pos
sessed by a different race two hundred years ago. There
is reason to believe that their camps were stationed, and
their council fires burned On a part of this very ground.
That wild race was never equaled by any civilized people,
in their attachment to the grave and the memory of their
fathers. Was this refinement in them? Was it not
rather a natural feeling, which all their barbarism had
never been able to extinguish ?
Let me ask too, what portion of a civilized community
manifest this feeling in its greatest strength ? Is it the re
fined as they are called ? or is it those who are more true
to nature ? Who are they who make it so dangerous to
violate the grave ? Let an insult be offered to the tomb,
and all the roughest elements of the community are up
in arms. They say that the living can protect them
selves ; but they must guard the slumbers of the defence
less dead. So far from refinement being the parent of
these feelings, it rather tends to weaken and destroy them.
Silver and gold may be refined till they are fit for no use
ful purpose, and serve only for ornament and show ; and
so man may be refined tUl he becomes cold and heartless
— tiQ all generous impulses and affections forsake his
breast forever.
But you ask, if this feeling is natural, why has it not
done more to improve the outward aspect of the grave?
I answer, this is the province of taste ; and it does not
follow, that because the feeling of respect for the dead is
strong, it shall manifest itself in this way ; though, in com
ing days, there is encouragement to hope that it wiQ.
The proper taste has been inspired ; it is spreading fast

15
and far; the time is not distant, when Mount Auburn,
which for years was almost aloile, will be the mother of a
thousand fair cities of the dead. It is not so now. In
most parts of our land, the burial place is another name
for desolation. Its walls, if it has any, are broken down ;
its monuments are leaning with neglect, not with age — as
if they were weary of bearing inscriptions which no one
comes to read ; there is no relief to the eye but the rank
grass in summer, and the aster and golden-rod in autumn,
which nature spreads there as if in shame for the living
and compassion for the dead. In such places, every one
feels ashamed of his race ; every one feels that the living
are unjust and unworthy. Why, the very dog, who has
been faithful to his master, deserves a more honored
grave. And now let me say, that religion strongly testifies to
the power of this natural feeling. If I would know what
will affect the human heart, the Bible is the authority to
which I go. There we find it written that God deter
mined to separate the sons of the patriarchs as a peculiar
people. They were then wanderers by habit and profes
sion; it was necessary that they should give up their
roving, and settle quietly down in the limits of the
promised land. And this was done. Hard as it is to
change the manners of a people, in the case of the He
brews this was so thoroughly done, that these hereditary
wanderers became renowned through all the nations, for
the depth of their attachment to their father-land. In the
captivity, by the rivers of Babylon, when their conquerors
respectfully desired to hear their far-famed minstrelsy, the
songs of Zion were so full of recollections of their coun
try, that it almost broke their hearts to sing them. They

16
hanged their harps on the weeping willows, and could not
strike them again. Their feeling is expressed by one of
their prophets, in the words, "Weep not for the dead,
neither bemoan him ; but weep for him that goeth away :
for he shall return no more, nor see his native country."
And how was this great change accomplished ? It was
done by means of this feeling of respect for the dead. It
was done by anchoring the affections of the children to
the graves of their fathers. From the earliest ages, all
who dwelt near to God took an interest in this subject,
resolved that the body, which had once been the dwelling
of the soul, should not, like common dust, be trodden
under foot of men. When Jacob was dying in Egypt, he
could not bear the thought of being laid to rest in the
distance and solitude of a foreign land. Joseph, too,
bound his children by a promise, that his remains should
be borne to the sepulchre of his fathers. This feeling
grew and gained strength among them, till it destroyed all
inclination to wander — till it was the heart's desire and
prayer of the dying Hebrew, that his ashes might mingle,
dust to dust, with his own, his native land.
We should not have expected to find the true taste in
times so ancient ; nor should we find it in any except the
patriarchs and those whose souls were lighted from on
high. But we do trace, in those early ages, the same taste
which now begins to prevail among ourselves — the same
desire to bring trees and flowers, to remove the dreariness
of the place of death. When Abraham bought the fields
of Machpelah foi; a Cemetery, he secured the right to all
the trees that were in it, and all that grew on its borders.
The sepulchre of our Saviour, too, was in a garden — a
place where trees spread their shade above, and flowers

17
breathed incense from their little urns below — a place not
distant from the city, and yet not so near, that the noise
and business of the living should disturb the silence of the
grave. Not anticipating that their Master would rise, they
laid him in a place to which they might come in peace and
loneliness, to meditate and remember, and where pilgrims
in after times might resort, to be strengthened and inspired
by the memory of that great friend of man.
The religion of Jesus tends to conflrm the feeling of
which I speak. It gives us reason to believe that the de
parted are living — gone from this world, indeed, but not
from existence, — living in some province of creation,
where it is not given us to know. If it be so, they must
look back with .deep interest on all the scenes through
which they traveled in their pilgrimage below. And if,
from their bright abodes, they look down on their own neg
lected graves, must there not be sorrow in heaven ? But
no ! Sorrow can never enter to disturb the untroubled
calm above. Let me ask rather, will there not be joy in
heaven if they can see that their resting place is honored?
and that memorials are planted there by affectionate hands?
It wlU assure them, not merely that they are remembered,
but that their surviving friends are faithful, both to the
dead and the living, and that they are preparing to meet
them in their Father's house on high.
But I am going beyond your patience and my own
strength ; I will therefore bring the subject directly home
to ourselves.
We have made arrangements to leave the burial place
of our fathers. The opening of that small grave yonder
was the act by which we bade it farewell. We have done
a.

18
it from necessity and not from choice. If I am told that
there is room there yet, I answer, it is true ; we may bury
our dead there if we will. But if we lay our heart's treas
ure there to-day, the stranger may be laid at his side to
morrow ; and thus they who have been united in life, must
be separated in death. Surely every heart will confess
that it ought not so to be.
The place " where the rude forefathers of the hamlet
sleep," was originally chosen with true taste and feeling.
It was so near the village, that the mourner might follow
his dead on foot, as the mourner should, if God gives him
strength ; at the same time it was so distant as to leave the
place in silence and repose. When I came here, twenty
years since, it was my favorite resort, at jnorning, at eve
ning, and sometimes at midnight hours. It was peaceful
— it was beautiful — on one side the eye wandered over the
two spires, which were all that then rose in the village, to
the high walls of the vaUey, crowned with the dark pine
wood. On the other side, it fell upon the bright stream,
with the green fringe upon its borders, where there was
seldom even a dashing oar to break the smoothness of the
tide. But as the village grew, the place was changed.
The sounds of busy life came near ; the noise of men, on
the fields and the waters, was brought into painful contrast
with the stillness of the grave. And now, for years, we
have heard the quick steps of improvement, as it is called,
trampling hke a war-horse round it, impatient to tread it
down. When Jerusalem was about to fall, a voice was
heard at midnight in the temple, saying, " let us depart ;"
and when I have been, in the dead of night, at the place
of which I speak, it required little fancy to hear a voice,
saying to the sleepers, "arise and depart, for this is not

19
your rest ; the place where the living buy and sell is no
longer a home for you."
Suffer me to congratulate you now, on the success which
has attended this enterprise from its beginning to the pres
ent hour. Seven years since I presented this subject to
all whom my voice could reach. I did so, at the desire of
a daughter of this village, who was deeply interested in
its welfare ; but before her purpose could be accomplished,
she was called away ; and from necessity she was borne to
the very place where she could not bear that the remains
of her friends should lie. Last year, another effort was
made — by those, whom, if they were not present, I might
name with the praise which they deserve. The means to
conduct the enterprise have been liberally supplied by
those who could have no hope of gain, nor even requital
for the efforts and sacrifices they made. There were some,
who would have selected a different place ; but with that
generosity which it is more common to hear of than to see,
they gave up their own preferences, and showed that they
cared for nothing but the general good. Have we not
reason to hope that this will be secured ? Nature has
made this place beautiful, and the purpose for which it is
now set apart will make it an attractive and delightful re
sort in every state of feeling — to the sorrowful and the
happy — ^to the aged and the young. I am persuaded that
nothing has been done in this vUlage since its history be
gan, which will tend so much to improve and refine it, as
what you are doing now. Observe that small fountain,
whose sweet voice you hear! It gathers the streams,
which formerly ran unseen through the meadow, and lifts
them up to the eye in graceful silver falls. And in hke
manner this place and this enterprise will assemble streams

20
of good taste and feeling which formerly ran to waste, and
from them produce results which shall be grateful to every
eye, and inspiring to every heart. When the native of
this town, after long absence, returns to the home of his
fathers, he will walk the streets, and all whom he meets
there will be strangers; he will inquire concerning familiar
dwellings, and the names of their inhabitants will be new ;
when he meets his old acquaintance, he will find that they
know not the Joseph of former days. He will be forlorn
and solitary among the living, and will not feel at home
till he comes to the mansions of the dead. Here he will
find the guardians and the playmates of former years ;
here will be aU whom he used to reverence and love ; and
here his heart will overflow with emotions such as no tongue
can adequately tell.
Reflect how many tenants will soon be here, to claim
their freehold in the dust below. One fair and gentle
child h^s already come — a fitting herald to take possession
in the name of all the dead. Here he has laid himself
down on a colder pillow than a mother's breast. Many
such will soon be here — morning stars quenched in the
brightness of their rising — before they have known the
stains and sorrows of life below. Children, in tender years
will follow their parents to this place ; the domestic circle
will be fearfully broken, and thenceforth the wide world
win be their home. The husband will follow the wife —
the light and joy of his desolated home; and the wife the
husband, on whose strong arm she had hoped to lean through
all her days. The young, sinking under the slow torture
of wasting disease, will flee away and be at rest in this
holy ground; the aged, after years of labor and sorrow,
will depart to this place in peace. The pale marbles will

21
rise everywhere around us, telling of the dead, sometimes
what they were, but still oftener what they ought to
have been.
We are here to day to consecrate these grounds. And
we consecrate them in the name of "Him that liveth, and
was dead." We consecrate them to the service of our
heavenly Father — to the influences of his Spirit — to the
kingdom of his Son. We consecrate them to the sacred
repose of the dead, and the religious improvement of the
living; we consecrate them to aU kind affections — to
heavenward hopes — to the tears of love — to the consola
tion of grief. We consecrate them to the growth of Chris
tian principles — to the power of Christian emotions.
Heaven has made it a land of streams and fountains, a
land of vallies and hills ; and now may a stronger and
deeper interest be given to it than beauty can ever bestow ;
and may the blessing of God be upon it from the be
ginning to the end of the year.
But when we consecrate this place in the Saviour's
name, it should remind us of the promises of the gospel.
Many of us have been at his table, to commemorate his
dying love to-day. When he sat, with his disciples, at the
last supper, the bread and the wine passed untasted by
him ; he said that he would not share them again tUl they
met in the kingdom of God. So then, happy meetings
were yet before them, and that parting was not the last.
What a world of bright promise to the faithful do those
simple words bestow. It spreads out in a thousand forms
of hope, each one of which is a ray of glory to some
afflicted heart. The mother for example— the Rachel
Weeping for her children, but not refusing to be comforted,
because she has surrendered them to her Father and their
4

22
Father, to her God and their God, — she may lift up
her eyes and look forward to the time when she shall go
to those who cannot return to her — ^when they shall be
the first to meet her at heaven's gate, and with bright and
glad voices, bid her welcome to their own happj'' home.
" O, when the mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy, —
Hath she not then, for all her fears,
The day of woe, the sleepless night,
For all her sorrows, all her tears,
An over-payment of delight ? "
But the hour is wasting; I see by the lengthening
shadows that the sun is sinking low. I see that some, who,
when I began to speak, were in the sunshine, are now in
the evening shade. And some, who are now in the full
sunshine of prosperity and gladness, will soon be covered
with the awful shadow of death. We shall soon leave
this ground — never again thus to assemble, till we meet
in the dust below. The day is going down ; the darkness
of night will soon settle on these hills and vales. The
season is declining; the red leaf is already hung as a
signal from the tree, and the winds of autumn will soon
be heard singing their vesper hymn. The year is waning ;
the trumpet of the winter storms will soon be sounded ;
they will sweep through these leafless woods, and rush and
howl over the habitations of death. Let us feel then, for
it is true, that every fading year — every fall of the leaf—
every closing day, and -every toll of the funeral beU is
measuring our dead march to the grave.
Let us prepare then, since, prepared or not, we must go.
Let us have the only preparation that can avail us in the
dying hour. Let us " so number our days as to apply our
hearts unto wisdom. " Let us say to Him who made us,

23
" The grave cannot praise thee ; death cannot celebrate
thee ; but the living, the living, he shall praise thee as we
do this day. " May we so spend our days in his service,
that, in the hour which is not far from any one of us, we
may look forward with hopes full of immortality; and
when the cares of this short life are over, through Him
who lived, and labored, and died upon the cross to save
us, may we serve him in nearer presence, and with angels'
powers on high.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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